


Inconspicuous

by FreshBrains



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Gay Bar, Humor, Multifandom Drabble Exchange, POV Okoye, Triple Drabble, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 11:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15242436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: “They are looking at you,” Nakia says, voice lilting into a tease as she settles onto the bar stool.





	Inconspicuous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theprokaryotekid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprokaryotekid/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this treat! I was inspired by your prompt "a War Dog and a Dora Milaje undercover in a gay bar..."

“They are looking at you,” Nakia says, voice lilting into a tease as she settles onto the bar stool. “You’ve turned every head we’ve passed.”

“Let them look,” Okoye says resolutely. Two drinks appear in front of her, unordered—local Cape Verde cocktails, sweet and strong. At the end of the bar, two women eye her. “I told our King that an undercover mission is no longer realistic for us.”

Nakia laughs, head tossed back, earrings jingling around her neck. “Do you think they _recognize_ us? No, look again, o great General.” She nabs one of the drinks and sips deep.

Okoye does so, taking a quick scan of the bar, at the groups of women laughing and dancing. They look back, meeting Okoye’s steely gaze head-on, which is almost startling for Okoye—people usually back down in seconds.

One woman winks at her. Another puts an extra sway in her dance, the colors of her headscarf like a kaleidoscope under the lights. When Okoye turns around the face the bar, she finds a bit of paper next to her drink with a phone number.

“Won’t be needing this,” Nakia says, crumpling the paper in her fist.

“It could’ve been intelligence,” Okoye argues, but Nakia just laughs again, slinging her arm around Okoye’s neck.

“You need some _intelligence_ yourself, lady-killer,” she says, running soft fingertips down Okoye’s arm. “Let’s dance and give all these admirers something to _really_ look at.”

Okoye prides herself on being nothing short of professional, but she can’t deny her chest puffs a little. For once, she looks much like the other woman in the room—head shaved, simply dressed, muscled and toned rather than soft and feminine. And they seem to _love_ it.

“Alright,” she says, pressing a kiss to Nakia’s cheek. “If you insist.”


End file.
